


A Comprehensive Guide On How To Make Dan Howell Tired Enough To Get In Bed

by deletable_bird



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2009x2015, 2015x2009, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Insomnia, M/M, Morning Sex, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 19:42:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4973617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deletable_bird/pseuds/deletable_bird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>This is what Dan loves about the old Phil, the Phil from way back when; his blatant, flirty, inappropriate comments, his complete lack of inhibitions; the way he digs his fingers into Dan’s hair and kisses him like it’s the last thing he’ll ever be able to do.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Comprehensive Guide On How To Make Dan Howell Tired Enough To Get In Bed

**Author's Note:**

> [ _disclaimer_ ](http://deletablebird.tumblr.com/d)

Down the hall Phil’s bed creaks, and Dan’s stomach does a triple back tuck and doesn’t stick the landing. His fingers freeze on his laptop’s trackpad and he listens, still as stone, as Phil shuffles into the bathroom and turns on the tap. The sound of running water jolts Dan back into movement and he scrolls blindly, not taking in anything passing in front of his eyes, just waiting for Phil to come and see him still glued to his couch crease.

Phil’s footsteps shuffle out of the bathroom and in through the living room doorway. Dan doesn’t look up, instead clamping the hem of his jumper sleeve between his teeth, pulling it up his wrist so he can hide his face behind it. Cold fingers run down the nape of his neck, and he shudders.

“Early riser, huh?” Phil asks from somewhere above and behind Dan’s head, his voice low and lilting, rough from sleep and thick with his Northern intonation. Dan looks up, trapping Phil’s hand between his head and the sofa back, and grins.

“Haven’t slept yet.”

“Fuck, Dan,” Phil groans, exasperated, and leans down to kiss him, not really on the mouth but not on the cheek either. His hair is so _long_ , it’s disorienting. Dan reaches up and threads his fingers through Phil’s fringe and pulls him down for a proper kiss, if upside-down.

When they break apart Phil’s breathing’s kicked up, and he’s smirking. “You look like you need a bit of a relaxer,” he breathes, his thumb tracing just above Dan’s brow bone.

“You think you have the right kind in mind?” Dan grins, and lets himself be pulled to his feet and led into the hallway.

“I don’t know,” Phil smirks. “Why don’t we find out?”

This is what Dan loves about the old Phil, the Phil from way back when; his blatant, flirty, inappropriate comments, his complete lack of inhibitions; the way he digs his fingers into Dan’s hair and kisses him like it’s the last thing he’ll ever be able to do.

Dan slides his hands around Phil’s waist, unconditionally glad about his lack of a shirt. He breaks away from the kiss only when he’s run out of breath and smirks, and Phil from six years ago smirks right back. Still-chilly fingers sneak over his shoulders, leaving legions of goose pimples in their wake, and dig into his hair, pushing the freshly-buzzed cut deliciously up the wrong way. Dan hunches his shoulders, tilting his head back into the feeling, and shivers.

“You are so high-strung right now,” Phil says, his voice almost unbearably smug and a little bit wondering, and Dan snorts and snogs him hard, pushing his fingers into the locks that he hasn’t been able to pull so well for years now and tightening his grip until Phil gasps into his mouth and retaliates with gripping Dan’s neck and tilting his chin up so he can nibble the soft skin under his earlobe.

Dan gasps and when Phil’s lips move down to press under his ear, teeth scraping over soft skin, he lets out a faint, breathy whine, unable to swallow the pathetically needy noise. Phil grins against Dan’s jaw, his tongue peeping out between his teeth in the smile Dan knows so well. “You always were such a bottom bitch.”

“I’m not anymore,” Dan manages, his voice shuddering in time with his ragged breathing.

“You sure about that?” Phil whispers, his words fanning out over Dan’s chin, before he slides his hand down to grip his shoulder and soft, damp lips hunt along the length of his neck, searching out the place where he can dig his teeth in and make Dan moan.

“I’m― _fuck_ ―sure,” Dan gasps as Phil teases tender, butterfly kisses against his jugular as if he’s savoring the way Dan tastes, as if he’d like to never taste another thing. He grins, the slightly rough edges of his teeth digging into vulnerable flesh, and presses several feathery kisses just above Dan’s clavicle in quick succession. It sends a shuddering bolt of hot, electric sensation through Dan’s stomach, and he bites back a keening noise that he doesn’t want to give Phil the satisfaction of hearing.

And then Phil latches his lips onto the side of his throat and “ _Fuck_ ,” Dan repeats, like a broken record, and his nails dig into the small of Phil’s back. Phil arches into the touch, digging his teeth ever so slightly into his muscle and Dan hisses. “You’re going to leave a mark, Phi― _il_ ―”

Phil draws away, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes, his pupils blown wide to eclipse grey-blue irises, his bottom lip red and caught between his teeth. “Do I look like I care?”

“You couldn’t look less like you do,” Dan half-laughs, his voice shaking like a slackline, digs his fingers through Phil’s hair, and pulls him in so he can kiss him, hard.

Phil’s hands snake under Dan’s shirt, rucking it up until he has to break away to wrestle it over Dan’s head. He tosses is carelessly over his shoulder with a smirk that makes Dan’s breath hitch in his throat, only halfway from laughter. He fans kisses across Dan’s collarbones, shoulders, before he sinks slowly to his knees and laves his tongue over Dan’s hipbone. His fingers are trembling ever-so-slightly against the hem of his pyjama trousers, low-slung and already inching themselves off his arse without Dan having interfered with them for the last five hours.

“Shit,” Dan says, looking down at the man on his knees before him, the place on his neck where Phil bit him throbbing in the best way possible, like a delicious afterthought.

“You mean ‘fuck me,’” Phil grins, fingertips curling around the hem of Dan’s pants and inching them down until he can wrap his now-warm fingers around the base of Dan’s dick, pressing a kiss plush up against the flushed head.

“Oh, _fuck me_ ,” Dan gasps helplessly into empty air and Phil chuckles around the head of his cock. Dan shudders and grips jet-black hair as tight as he can―Phil’s mane and a half from 2009 is perfect for this―and tries to stop himself from bucking frantically into Phil’s mouth. He barely succeeds, and only Phil’s left hand stretched up and splayed blindly across his ribcage keeps him still.

It’s hot, and wet, and exactly the thing he needs. Dan’s brain is shorting out, from arousal and lack of sleep and the utter need to just _get off right now right now_ , and he can tell he’s going to last about thirty more seconds if Phil keeps going like he is now, his cheeks concave and his tongue furiously working the underside with his lips soft and tight, sliding up and down Dan’s prick.

And then he pulls off, the head of Dan’s cock falling from his mouth with a wet pop, and lavishes open-mouthed kisses up and down Dan’s length, along his hipbones and below his belly button. Dan’s grip on Phil’s hair is viselike and his forearms and thighs are shaking with the strain of keeping himself upright, but he manages it, gasp-moaning on every breath until Phil takes him back into his mouth, soft and slow.

“Fuck, Phil, _fuck_ , oh―” He’s spouting nonsense, every other word Phil’s name, but he can’t stop and now his stomach is trembling with exertion, though he can’t be arsed to care. Honestly, sex is the only way he ever gets exercise these days, and he has no plans to change this arrangement.

Phil’s right hand leaves the base of his dick and sneaks around to grab a healthy handful of Dan’s left arsecheek, squeezing hard. Dan’s whole body tenses and relaxes like a wave at the touch. His eyes are fixed on Phil’s face as he pulls almost all the way off and flicks his tongue against the head of his prick, savoring it like a goddamn lollipop, and Dan’s gone, a strangled scream torn from the back of his throat.

He can’t make a single noise and Phil doesn’t have enough warning to know when to swallow, so he lets Dan come on his face, streaks of white painting him even paler than before. The sight of him with his eyes half-closed and his lips parted, swollen pornographically red, keeps Dan coming for a stupidly long time.

His breathing is barely half-way back to normal when his knees decide they’ve had too much strain put on them for the past ten minutes and just give out. He slides down the wall until he’s landed square on his bum, his lips kiss-sore and his pants still around his thighs. Phil’s eyes, the blue still almost eclipsed by black, meet his, and Dan’s breath hitches at the sight of a streak of his come splashed across Phil’s bottom lip. His fingers slide into Phil’s hair, and Dan pulls him close, licking into his mouth with a soft huff, a faint moan.

Phil’s fingers are just a little too rough on Dan’s neck as he snogs him, desperate and wanting, and it takes a good thirty seconds of making out before Dan remembers that Phil still hasn’t gotten off. He snags Phil’s bottom lip in his teeth, pulling away achingly slowly without letting it slip away for a good three seconds, and manages a smirk.

“Want a little help with that?” he tries to purr, sliding his fingers up and over Phil’s thigh. Phil’s eyes are practically glassed over and his breathing is as irregular as Dan’s ever heard it, and he looks utterly desperate.

“Yes, fucking hell,” he breathes, his voice almost a whisper with a hint of a growl, and Dan seals their mouths together again and sticks his hand down Phil’s pants.

Phil is hard and leaking as Dan wraps his fingers around him and jerks him as fast as he can. He digs his nails into Dan’s biceps and comes with a choked noise that disappears into Dan’s mouth and Dan snogs him hot and wet before letting the kiss melt into a long, slow, lingering point of contact that lazes on forever.

“I need a goddamn shower,” Phil says when he finally breaks away, resting his forehead against Dan’s. Dan can’t help the grin that spreads across his face, and he presses one last kiss to the tip of Phil’s come-spattered nose. It should be gross, but Dan really can’t find it in him to think anything’s nasty right now.

“Go take one, then, you filthy beast,” he advises, and just-a-little-bit-shorter-than-him Phil with long hair and smooth cheeks pulls him in for one last kiss.

Dan heaves himself to his feet and hitches his trousers back up his are after probably too long spent snogging his boyfriend from the past on the hall floor. He steadies himself against the wall, white dots swimming behind his eyes. He is fucking _exhausted._

“Get some sleep,” Phil whispers, pressing a kiss to his neck from behind before disappearing down the hall towards the bathroom. Dan lets a shiver run down his spine and stumbles, already half-asleep, in the opposite direction.

The door to his bedroom creaks as he pushes it open and stops dead two steps in, a smile spreading slowly across his face. There’s already a shape under his blankets, and he knows exactly who it is. He changes into a clean pair of pants and slides as quiet as he can under the covers, slipping cold hands over Phil’s warm body, tracing the lines of his ribcage. The Phil in bed with him stretches and sighs and rolls sleepily over, his slumber-softened eyes meeting Dan’s. “All right?”

His voice is husky and thick from sleep. Dan pushes his fingertips through Phil’s hair, short on the sides, his fringe spectacularly mussed into a messy quiff.

“Past you is really good at blow jobs,” Dan says frankly, and kisses him, noting every nuance in flavor and technique that he’s adopted in the past six years. Phil’s hand, large and soft and warm, comes up to cup his face, and his thumb strokes over Dan’s cheekbone. Dan closes his eyes and turns his face into the touch, an idiotic smile settling unbidden on his lips.

“Go to sleep, you idiot,” Phil says fondly, turning over again so Dan can pull him close. He does, wrapping his arms around Phil’s waist and tugging him in, pressing a pair of soft kisses to the back of Phil’s shoulder. He can hear the shower running down the hall and the sun is already well up into the winter sky, but the curtains are drawn against the world outside and it’s warm and safe in his own little universe, and he can sleep with Phil beside him.

**Author's Note:**

> IM SO SORRY IM SO


End file.
